What the Punters don’t see.....Transfer day....

So having not been back long from a relaxing chalet holiday in Val d’Isere, I took advantage of the endless coffee, the fact my sheets were clean and toilet stain free. I enjoyed my free toiletries, clean sauna and the seemingly endless supply of food. But upon my arrival at lunch time on the Saturday, all I wanted to do was give the chalet host a big hug, as I full well know, these poor buggers have probably been up since 3am cleaning for our arrival.
I’ve been there and done it. Guests will have left an unholy mess and as I wave goodbye to them on the coach, I walk back into my chalet and stand there with my hands on hips and say,

‘I WILL clean this mess’

So at 3am on a Sunday morning, I don my cleaning trousers, put on the iPod and scrub the chalet, French bleach wearing my hands thin, and the R4 oven cleaner slowly disintegrating my lungs. The beats of LCD Soundsystem , French coffee and Lucky Strikes being the only things keeping me going.

I was lucky enough to have youthful energy and chalet assistant for the first month. So with military precision, jobs were delegated,

‘Matt, you take the downstairs bathroom, I will take the kitchen, and god damn this will be the cleanest kitchen you have ever seen’’

So at ten past 3, fag done. Coffee done. We go our separate ways, and for the first half an hour, I am a man possessed. The oven is sparkling, the sides are fresh and the fridge smells cleaner than when I got there. The glasses are polished and cutlery shining.

‘What’s the big deal’ I say, ignoring the horror stories from training week. I am completely stress free, until my resort manager walks through the door. He checks for dust, looks behind sofas, and low and behold, he finds a bottle top. After 10 minutes of moaning, he explains, in full on detail,

‘A bottle cap could ruin a guests holiday’....yeah, OK.

So I work my way downstairs, and it becomes apparent the horror stories are right. Not to go into too much detail, but I felt like a nurse in an old people’s home. ‘Soiled’ sheets, sofa cushions that have been ‘territorially marked’ and way too many used prophylactics – OK not an old people’s home, more like a crack den without the needles.

Many guests last night’s were used to get as smashed as possible, leave your packing until the last minute and leave a nice mess for the host. Standard behaviour really, and something I may have done, had I not chosen this job myself. So now, having spent forever scraping duct tape off the chalet ceiling (long story) picking bits of duvet and pillow out of the open fire and fashioning a  MacGyver type contraption to unblock a toilet, the sun was rising over the Grande Motte Glacier and guests were landing at Geneva.

‘SHIT’ This meant I had 3 hours to finish putting bedding on, pick up endless supplies of bottle caps and empty stubbies off the balcony and garden below and bake a cake. Where was I going to fit my nap in? What about my leisurely breakfast and cigarette on the balcony? So, with  bedding finally done, gourmet Banana yoghurt cake done and chalet looking like a show home, I collapse on the sofa, with bloodshot eyes, stinking of bleach and in desperate need of a cigarette.

My phone rings: ‘Mike, ETA in 15 minutes’ Oh god, the place stinks of bleach, I have to re-clean the windows and the sides need another wipe as they have gone streaky! Great, so now I have 3 minutes to shower, have a quick fag and just about enough time to neck a triple strength coffee.

I stand out the front of the chalet, smile on and welcome my guests to a spotlessly clean chalet, smelling of Banana cake and freshly brewed coffee. So what now? Sleep? Breakfast? Pint? Cry about the fact I have do it again in 7 days? Then I remember exactly why I am here.

‘Sod it, I’m hitting the hill’